Hunt to be Hunted
by MoreNonsense
Summary: This story is currently 'closed' cause I want to rewrite and improve it, but of course any reviews/tips are highly appreciated: Betrayed by Hawke. But this time the end start another story. Danarius never reach Minrathous and Fenris sets a hunt on his own
1. Dead Float

The mage was three days ahead of him or more. On the other hand, she seemed oblivious to pursuit this far and did not bother to conceal her journey, or she was possibly just not adept to staying out of sight. But he knew one thing for certain. She would never reach her destination. He would make sure of it.

He had to admit to himself that he had been fortunate ever since he left the Silent Plains. His former master deciding they would take a ship instead of the Imperial Highway, despite the discomfort and shoddy food it would entail. All the hired hands objected, of course, and upon asking for the reason the blame was put on sore feet. Gnarly, they followed Danarius along the diverging path towards the coastland, muttering about weak mages. Fenris knew better. On a ship there are no escape routes and lots of time to take up old patterns, in case he got cold feet as they closed in on the capitol. By the time they arrived in Minrathous Danarius would be convinced of his submission or have ordered his removal. From this world, that is.

Fenris had gone along with fulfilling every purposeless order almost automatically and without regard. Bitterly contemplating how it had come to this. The stab in his back had buried itself deep, a lot deeper than anything he could remember, and the knowledge that it only took an absurdly short amount of time scared him.

The feeling made him clench his fists tightly, seemingly imitating how his chest felt since that day. Why did it not cease? Danarius was dead. Worms feasting on his cold eyes for eternity. He deserved worse.

Fenris had seen him let down his guard the first day at sea that last voyage they took from Vyrantium. His own head was clearing up by then, the ability of grasping the situation and what had actually happened started to settle in. He recognized the chance and that it might not come again: second day they were to pass most closely by the coast since they left dock, close enough to make out faint details in the vegetation. All he had to do was wait, and he had time to come up with a plan of action meanwhile.

Then the time came. Below deck, Danarius were on his way from supper, food that could still count as fresh, to his room for study. The crew were busily entertaining themselves in the twilight on deck so none of them were present. Fenris, as always suspended from the table and food until the whole crew was satisfied, were forgotten at the moment. Most people liked to put the elf with the hateful glare and strange markings out of their mind.

"You can go have some scraps now, my little wolf." The smooth voice of Danarius as he went past Fenris in the haze of the main deck pushed the outcome toward certainty.

As always he felt a smug satisfaction as he past his experimental success, his pet, dangerous but tame all the same. Finally he was back where he should be. All there was to do now was prepare for the ritual to put him back where they had started; blank. After all these years, he would reclaim what was lost.

Danarius still gloated in his succeeded endeavor, steering for his limited working-space onboard. Then came the strange sensation at the midpoint of his back as a hand phased through it, a palm pressing firmly over his mouth and nose, fingers closing around his heart, hot breath at his ear and the words pronounced with abhorring clarity, restrained so that no one else could hear.

"You are no longer my master."

Fenris had felt like his mind was blazing. He did not even manage to squeeze the thumping muscle slowly, as intended. Danarius's scream was just a choked tone vibrating the pained chest and not nearly enough to be heard over the splash of the waves. As soon as the body went limp Fenris withdrew his hand from the magister's chest and started to drag the body towards the stern, the captain's quarters. One good thing with controlled phasing and causing only internal damage was, once you have learned how, the lack of bloodstains. The only red visible ran out the dead man's lips and soaked in a gray beard. Neither trails nor sign for the voyagers that something might be amiss. That probably gave him the night before they noticed Danarius' absence.

He had grabbed one of the spare ropes as he passed by it and successfully shut the door behind himself in the quarters. He was fortunate indeed. One of the back windows stood ajar already. He roughly dumped the body in front of it and then turned around to look for a fixed object to latch the rope around. There were none to be found. The bed might have been a choice, but he highly doubted it would not slide out of place under his weight. Add to that it was on the wrong side of the room from the window. Starting to feel exasperated he turned towards the windows again. Think, he commanded himself. Do it before the captain retires here.

The captain and first mate were on the deck above him, checking the course, position or whatnot they needed to keep this ship keel down. He listened to hear their muffled voices and steps as they shifted their weight. At least he would hear them coming.

In the hastily dimming light he had observed the wooden beam between the windows. Figuring he had found what he was looking for he had squinted closer at the thin rope and nail keeping the window alongside the open one shut. Then he decided that the captain would believe that the line had snapped, if that window was open.

So he put the sharp tip of his armored thumb on the window frame, dragged it downward and severed the rope, watched it fall down towards the spindrift as the window slid open. He realized the cut had left a rather deep scratch in the wood as evidence of unnatural events. Damn. He was loosing his patience, which was probably the first thing he had done as he started this. He growled at the mark as he turned to the corpse again, paranoid thoughts smothered with facts that he would most likely be out of their grasp before anyone would notice it, _if_ they even noticed.

"Get to it," he had muttered to himself looking down at the corpse. Move on to the tricky part. He would have to heave Danarius onto his shoulder, easy enough, and then get out through the window, even though it looked to small there was no other option, gripping both ends of the rope, strung around the beam, rappelling himself and the burden down all the way to the surface.

If he could not… Brainwave. One of the good kinds. Crouching beside the corpse, winding it in the rope he started working. He had no proficiency about knots since he had never done anything like it prior to this effort but managed to fasten the body relatively well. Then he lifted it and squashed it through the fully open window, rappelled it out of the ship.

When it finally touched the expanse of water and the weight started to lighten he climbed into the frame himself, pulling the rope carefully through the ajar window beside him, not wanting to dislodge the strap keeping it from clanging. Then he started sliding downward on his end. The corpse worked perfectly as a counterweight and he soon broke the ice-cold surface soundlessly. So far, so good.

He grabbed the floating body, which helped him to keep his head over the surface without unnecessary effort (ironic that this man could do one helpful thing for another before he rotted). Only the rope left. Swiftly pulling it so that his end went upwards and once it went rounded the beam trying to catch it to relieve the fall. The splash was reasonably mute. Not one soul looking over the railing.

He stayed put and watched the towering ship shrink to ensure no one would notice his bleached hair among the waves. But he did not dare wait long and become too cooled down, so he left his former master for the last time and started swimming towards the shore. It was hard to spot it from his point of view but the times he got carried to the top of a wave he saw lights inlands. They got increasingly visible as the night fell. The sea was fast the darkest black and the lights all that differed its horizon from a starless sky. By then he blessed Isabela for helping him discover he knew how to swim, the hard way, otherwise he truly had been stuck on that boat. He had to remember thanking her, if they ever met again.

Exhausted he had reached shore close to morning and gotten help from reluctant farmers, some rest, and soon reached the nearest village. There he purchased supplies with money he had stolen along the way. He had no better choice in the matter and the victims were wealthy, though they probably did not deserve it. He did not feel he had the time to stop so he pushed on to one of the greater cities. Back to Vyrantium, for a shipment heading back inland.

That is where he heard the rumors of a magister dispute. Some low-status mage-woman who had disagreed with one of her betters and even put said one out of his position, probably trying to rise in the ranks. Gossip spread fast.

Now the others had most likely collared and sold that one like they did with the rest of the lowlifes. But _she_ had left the capitol and already gone through Vyrantium, or was about to leave the city, the sources were a bit vague. She would be short on guards and friends able to help her and she would most likely be heading in the same direction as him, at least for some time.

Hearing this, Fenris started to consider chasing her down if he got any more information. The more he contemplated it, the appeal increased. When he found a ship cheap enough to take him up the river towards the other side of the Tevinter Imperium he was certain. If he could find any further clues about the mage he would pursue her. This would be the best opportunity he would acquire to take down one of these blood mages.

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><p><em>First try at fan fiction, after rewriting it and some helpful comments it turned out like this. Any advice how I can improve is very welcome. <em>_You know what BioWare owns and I don't._

_Thanks to American Daydreamer for beta-ing!_


	2. Thoughts to Wander

_This chapter's still unbeta-ed, but I've been sitting on it long enough, and am sitting on a couple more, so I thought I'd just put it up. Plan to fix this at some point though._

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><p>Now Fenris sat hunched over his glass by the disc at small tavern located right beside the main road. He had with difficulty got a lead on the mage out of the tavern's keeper, a nervous man with reddening face and bad breath; could one expect any different?<p>

It had taken a while and the conversation had turned some of the heads in the half-filled room, but it could not be helped. He had to get the information and the innkeeper seemed to be the most obvious subject to inquire.

He was considering asking some of the locals, who probably would have seen the woman here when she came through, but he knew he would not be efficient in such matter. To get the crowd talking one needed a dimpled façade and social personality, neither of which he possessed. He drew to mind a dwarf with silver tongue and assuring smile effortlessly manipulating most of the vocal traffic in a whole city.

But Fenris knew himself well enough not to compare his people-skills with Varric's. All had to use their traits for the better and he did it talking to the reluctant types. However, feeling he was now in a better mood then when the day began he might give it a try. He threw a look over his shoulder, but before he even tried to decide whom to approach a figure crossed his view and casually sat down on the footstool beside him.

-'-'-'-

Funny how small the world seems sometimes. But small was not the right word, when looking for the same prize, searchers tends to run into each other. A sign that they are on the right track… or skillfully misguided. Surprise still struck her as she realized that the hooded man at the bar was looking for _her_ target. Well, former target to be precise.

She had not paid much attention to the travelers coming and going the last two nights, but occupied herself surveying some maps of the surrounding area. Her mind had begun to distant itself and her eyes stared blindly out over the patrons as she with mild interest listened to a dark voice interrogating the innkeeper. The sound of it carried, but most of the words she could only guess.

The lad was not exactly smooth, trying to carve out a solid answer, but as soon as his voice started to leak rage he still managed to patch the holes before the drunks started to smell entertainment. She let the corners of her lips slightly curl when she heard the pace of the deep voice fastened, break of in silence, and ended in a restrained manner. He sure did not want any attention, however, she would guess he wanted his answers more.

But apparently the mere tone in that voice already made the innkeeper twitch and take on a mumble in his attempted circumlocutions. She always found that sort of thing amusing. Then she started to take in the gist of what he had been saying. "Yes women traveler's come through here", "Some have passed through the last week, so hard to remember them, you know" and then "Last is sitting right behind you, I'm _sure_ she'll do".

That one finally made her turn her head and meet the eyes of the man. She raised an eyebrow and deliberately tilted her head as he realized she had heard him and fell silent, quickly turning his full attention to the wooden cup he was wiping. It probably made him feel even more cornered, and flushed. If he kept that up he would be the new face of cardinal red, for sure.

Personal assaults aside (because she knew for a fact that she would more than "just do" for anyone looking for female company the way he implied it, bastard. "She'll do" by the Queens Antivan arse!) the hooded stranger were not looking for company, he did not even grace her a glance, and she doubted he had any kind of friendly intent in seeking this woman judging the way he pursued with the questions.

"You will tell me what you know!" This time the dark voice was strong enough to pick up properly, but it was still not _too_ load and it did sound somewhat like a growl. Hoodie had moved, tensing as to get up and lunge himself on the inn-keeper, she sighted his gauntlet close on the counter, but without any other alarming noises this only turned a couple of bored heads to stare. She watched the hooded shoulders draw one deep breath before he went on whispering, or rather quietly spitting, what must be a drawn-out threat into the red face, from which the color dropped rapidly. A stammering description followed.

"… passing through with three men escorting her. Blond, clothes for travel…" Recognition began gnawing somewhere in her guts as the description went on with insignificant details. A small human with huge, blue earrings, not that Hoodie here cared much, she was certain.

But she also knew this woman was a magister, blood mage and hunted by assassins sent by another magister, one of the more wealthy ones. Fixing her gaze with new interest at the back of the hooded head she leaned back in her chair. This was intriguing, and conceivably so would the motive be. He did not seem to know anything about this mage, since he kept mumbling questions that made the innkeeper describe the woman and her servants. He also returned to his previous hunch on the stool and the turned heads lolled back to stare leisurely at the damp air. She kept watching, though.

She did not know what to make of this, it made everything more complicated. Or did it? The Crows were hunting the mage, this man were hunting the same, for whatever reason, and as far as they knew she could still be hunting the woman. In fact she knew better than any of them how their target was preceding. What she did not know was what move _she_ would do next.

Staying at the inn longer than one more night would definitely be too risky, so tomorrow was the day to leave. Studying the maps as she had done this night left her with almost unlimited options, so she had sorted out the two major objectives of her journey, besides getting away from her fellow assassins alive. The most important one was to make them lose any track of her, to ensure further survival. The recent days she had done this by following the mage, still. Stumbling across her very target on her merry way to this tavern, very fortunate as some would say. If they had not received the letters from the contact in Vyrantium. Letters used as kindle in the fire she started for her cronies on the day of arrival.

She had proclaimed that they would continue to the city to get the leads no one but she had read in the letters and then she disappeared with the knowledge the same night. She could only hope that the others would keep hurrying towards the city soon after the confusion became fact, leaving one of their leaders behind. She had hid in a tavern hardly an acre away from their camp, in the opposite direction from where they would get on their boat. They would not yet look for her, only notify headquarters.

When she affirmed that they had moved on she went to the tiny dock herself. Many of the vessels passing through stayed there to get fresh food and water and so she thought to get onto one heading upstream towards the mainland and the mage's assumed destination. As she best stood there, looking out over the slowly moving river and smelling the faint seaweed and caught fish, a small ship sailed by. It seemed almost to pedestrian that she noticed a woman with thick, blue rings in both earlobes standing close to the fore.

The woman was small with darkly blonde curls twisted into a plain but sophisticated knot, which was fancier than most women wore in these parts. It must have been hard for her not to wear something more extravagant, a problem the upper class usually had when attempting to blend in. But she had the right color and style on the clothes, even though a few holes and dirt might have completed the disguise. And the removal of those earrings.

The assassin had kept watching the boat as long as the meandering river allowed it. Then she looked around for something to eat, taking her time, really, and somewhere to sleep. She planned to follow, but she just discovered she had a day to spare. Daring to take extra time to haggle prizes she spared as much as possible in her limited pouch. This continued in the light of the next day until a cargo ship came by. She persuaded the captain to accept a passenger and then she were in her targets tracks.

When she got off again there were only a few miles to the closest tavern, the only logical stop before going elsewhere. So that was where she went. Just to make it an option she took the time to find out if the mage had gone through there and where it might be indicated she where headed next. Not that it took long, the patrons of this place were not used to pulling away when they were trolled on information, or being quiet at that. She also found out that the mage's bodyguard had purchased a round of beer and told everyone to keep their mouths shut about them being there. Interesting detail, that he had practically rendered her job child's play. Probably the cause to why the innkeeper made an attempt to dodge Hoodie's questions, though.

Back to her dilemma. And what to make of the hooded firgure. He seemed to be satisfied with the answers and the hum of his voice ceased. If they both followed the mage he was bound notice her, and that would be sooner rather than later, because hiding from the Crows would be enough trouble. If she went somewhere else and her old fellows caught her… They would be crossing through here in a matter of days if they worked fast and asking the same questions she had. Maybe even questions that would make the men remember _her_. And she had seen how much they could give away. One cannot always be fortunate, but she would have to be to pull this off.

She was an opportunist and regarded herself as such. She had taken this opportunity to escape because it had proved to be the most ideal one, not because of flawless planning. She knew to stay behind her fellows for a start and then headed in the different direction, following her target. That way she could claim she intended to go after the target alone to get all the _miraculous_ glory, or something like that, should they find her quickly.

They would punish her, surely and severely, but maybe they would let her live. Occasionally it happened that someone from the guild did incredibly brainless things to get the two seconds of attention the higher-ups would pay it, and a few of them still lived. She herself would never do such, that kind of notice was way too costly. But she wanted her freedom and this wondrous chance seemed to be the sign.

But all wondrous chances combined would not assure her that she was out of their wicked claws. They had ways to get information and made good contacts where they needed them. No one escaped the Crows.

Until recently. Apparently someone had gotten away and stayed so for years now. To top it off, rumor had it that he alone was the cause of the loss of a guild master and the dispersion and dispatching of the whole branch. It was of course kept as quiet as possible, it was not meant to be encouraged, but gathering secrets had always been profoundly taught within the Crows. People had an easier time perfecting that than keeping people out of their hearts. But it proved that the feathers of the bird could be ripped off, should you ruffle them enough. If she could find this man, and prove that she were not sent for his head, she could join him have the rush of a hunt outside of the nosy control of a master. Now she just had to leave her trail cold, before she started closing in on her homelands again.

So why not see what she could make of this, how to use this "Hoodie" to her advantage. A wisp of an idea came into mind. Chase the opportunity and sate her curiosity, this might work wonderfully if she was lucky. She would only have to convince the hooded man that travelling together would benefit him and could leave out details like _her_ motive and gains.

The innkeeper seemed to think it was safe to inch away from Hoodie and kept going to the far side of his closed off working space so she grabbed her glass and rose silently from her chair. Hoodie just turned to sweep his gaze around the room as she closed the few steps it took to the vacant stool on his left.

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><p><em>Introducing OC! Yes, still looking for a name. At that subject (dunno if it's good or bad mentioning this, but I will anyway) I've'nt originally intended to make this a romance. Hopefully I'll make it interesting anyway. Critique and other opinions, as always, highly appreciated!<em>


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